Carlilse's POV Outtake from The Path We Chose:
by BelieveItOrNot
Summary: Companion piece to The Path We Chose to be read anytime after chapter 12. This is just a snapshot since their story is huge in its own right.


**Stephanie Meyer Owns Twilight.**

This is a companion piece to **_The Path We Chose. _**Read anytime ofter chapter 12.

**WARNING**: I feel like I should warn you that this contains discussion, in a bit of detail, about abortion. (Not the process, though)

DEDICATED TO: oneiros_lykos for hitting me over the head with this! (Well, okay, she only mentioned it twice, but it's her fault!) I hope it lives up to your expectations.

This is just a snapshot, a glimpse at Carlisle and Esme the night they find out...

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The Things We Give

Carlisle's POV: A Snapshot

_My wife, in bed with me but not sleeping._ All the way over there, her back to me--crying. Esme. My reason, I believed, for being put on this Earth. Yes, it was my belief that we're all_ put_ here--enter the living world with purpose. She was mine. My driving force to even be alive. And there she was, on the other side of the bed and I could hear her crying quietly, sniffling. I reached over and took her hand. I didn't try to hold her or kiss her, although there was nothing I wanted more. Every time I'd held her close, it had only made her cry harder--deepened her sorrow. I wanted it to stop. That was my job--making pain stop. I felt her fingers clasp mine under the sheets so I continued to lay there like that, offering all of me--every piece--through just my hand.

She'd been quiet this evening for the most part--asking a question here and there, but not really being heard or answered, and usually overpowered by Renee. Renee, who had plowed through our house, planting herself on the sofa and making the announcement that brought my wife's hand to her heart. Shock, that was the first emotion. Denial, that came second. There must be some mistake. Bella and Edward, stiffer than boards, there was no mistake.

Amongst all the parental arguing, Bella looked ill. There was no color in her face and if she didn't take a breath soon, I was sure she would pass out. I called to her--tried to snap her out of it. I asked if she was feeling okay, when I really wanted to just say, breathe. Breathe, Bella. Her "no," was quiet but some color returned to her face and she took off for the door. I looked over at Edward to give him a nod to go to her, but he was already on his way. While the kids were outside, I'd tried my darndest to help get Renee into a better frame of mind, but she had an answer for everything--shot down any positive remark. Continuing to plead my case would only make things worse, so I shut up and listened as Renee clued Charlie in on _her_ plan.

The kids came back united. Standing together for the first time since they'd entered the house. And, man, if that didn't bring back memories…

I watched in silence as the two, so obviously in love, were torn apart like a piece of paper right down the middle. Edward seemed nearly catatonic--as though he really was half of a piece of paper now floating to the floor. After Renee and Charlie left with Bella, Edward hadn't said a word. He stood staring at the door for, I don't know, five minutes? Ten, maybe? Then he escaped from my watchful eyes, up to his room. That was when Esme let her first beautiful tear fall. Yes, her tears are beautiful; everything about her is beautiful. Her beauty is incomparable from one strand of hair on her head to her heart and her mind. I'd gone to her, embracing her in my arms. Her one tear turned into near-hysterics. Through quaking words I'd heard, "my fault."

Her fault? How was that possible? I knew she could rationalize it in her mind. Taking the blame--the world's problems on her shoulders--that was her weakest trait. Upon the confirmation of _Operation Iraqi Freedom_, she'd found a way to internalize some guilt then, too. Why was she teaching here in America where excellent teachers were in abundance? She could be bringing some real positivity into other countries where teachers--good or bad--were hard to come by. She'd once told me that no matter how exceptional we think we are as humans, we can always improve. That was how she thought. Her mind was something else.

"It's not your fault, Es." I rubbed her back--kissed at a tear. "It couldn't possibly be your fault. Think about what you're saying."

She pulled away from me and simply freeing herself from my embrace seemed to soothe her sobs. She explained her justification for assuming some of the blame--she hadn't spoken with Bella when her intuition had told her to. And now the kids, their lives would be far from easy.

"Life is never easy," I told her. "We all have unique challenges--unique problems--but it is how we deal with them, fight through them, that delivers us into a place where happiness is a possibility."

She seemed to listen but didn't respond with anything but, "Good night. I'm off to bed."

I put an arm around her, heading with her to our room. Her shoulders began to shake with sobs again, so I let her go. My effort to comfort her only made her feel worse and I knew it was because her guilt was overflowing from Edward to me. As if she had let me down, too. Hell, Esme, I wanted to say. I could just as easily call it my fault for not being around near as much as our son needs me to be.

Now, lying with just my hand in hers her cries were quieting, her breaths deepening. She was finally sleeping but I was restless. I kissed her cheek and left for my study where I could think.

Esme and I were the kids' age when we'd found ourselves under the same circumstances. We'd never been able to keep our hands off each other and never tried either. We gave in completely to our passion. A passion that led us to baby Edward at the age of eighteen. Unlike Edward, we hadn't even used condoms much of the time because we were too engrossed in each other to remember. Irresponsible was what we were.

But Bella and Edward, they believed they were being careful, and for all intents and purposes, they were.

I wondered if Bella's parents would succeed, as Esme's and mine almost had, in convincing her to go through with an abortion. Renee had seemed confident it would happen. Remembering Edward's reactions tonight, he wasn't liable to allow it easily. He would put up a fight, and he was one strong kid.

One strong kid who could never know just how close his mother and I had come to ending _her_ pregnancy. Edward had learned early on that was what our parents had originally wanted. My father, the arrogant, big mouth, I-never-think-before-I-speak type, let that fact hemorrhage right out of his mouth.

We'd been bragging about Edward's intellect, showing off his report card and once my father saw what an excellent student Edward was he'd said, "I guess it's a good thing you stubborn kids didn't listen to us when we told you to get rid of it." And then he'd laughed as though it were remotely funny. Edward had only been twelve when he'd heard that. Esme and I, for months, made sure he understood that, though they had indeed wanted us to end the pregnancy, it was never him they didn't want. It was just fear for our changed future. Unwarranted fear as it turned out. The one truth we'd never shared with Edward, and never would, was how the four of them had very nearly received their wish.

Esme and I had gone as far as to make an appointment--even showed up for it, one of her hands in both of mine. The doctor, I still remember his name, Dr. Mitchell, had wanted to consult with us first. Let us know what we could expect before he performed the procedure. Procedure--that's what he'd called it.

Esme had been crying from the moment we entered the waiting area. She was already mourning the baby that was still inside her. Her crying hadn't let up a bit when we entered Dr. Mitchell's office and sat in the two chairs facing his desk. He said he'd seen tears in his office before, quite often, actually. But there was something in Esme that went deeper than pain. It seemed to him that he saw doubt and regret in her face. "Is this what you want?" He'd asked Esme. "Are you ready, right now, to say goodbye to your baby?"

"No, I'm not," she'd said without taking a second to ponder the question. She turned to me, her lips quivering. "I'm not, Carlisle. I'll never be ready to say goodbye to my baby."

"Then don't," I'd said, and the instant those words left my lips, I knew I'd meant them.

Her arms were around my neck a second later, nearly choking me. "I won't."

I often wondered, time and time again, if we'd had any other doctor, would we have continued with the _procedure_? I owed that doctor my son's life, my life, and my wife's life. Repaying someone for your life was an impossible feat so I gave back the only way I could--I went into medicine. If I could save other people, save someone else's family members, friends, maybe I could pay down that debt little-by-little.

We left that doctor's office kissing; kissed our way through the parking lot; kissed in the car; kissed at the red lights; pulled over to kiss some more. We kissed all the way home. No longer mourning our baby, but celebrating our decision.

Esme and I were married before Edward was born. It was the right thing to do. As soon as we were both eighteen, we went down to the Justice of the Peace and recited our vows. It didn't matter that we hadn't written our own--we meant every word. There was nothing traditional about it. We didn't have a best man or maid of honor; the witnesses were lent to us by the court. That was the only time we ever saw them. Esme didn't wear anything borrowed or blue and we _had_ seen each other before the ceremony (if it could be called a ceremony). In fact, we'd helped each other get ready. She had fixed my tie, and I'd zipped her up. She'd never looked more breathtaking, though, as her six-month-sized belly protruded from her white cotton dress (she'd called the color candlelight, but it looked white to me). I kissed her belly right through the dress, her fingers played with my hair, holding me against her.

I had one hand in hers and the other on her stomach while the Justice of the Peace united us until death do us part. The baby moved against my hand as I said the words, "I do." Esme had felt it too and laughed a little before we kissed, and then again, after.

There was no big, white wedding. There was no reception. There was no honeymoon. There was just us, _and that was all_.

Esme's parents had revealed their support before mine. It was after we were married and living together--me working at the local sporting good's store and Esme working at the local daycare. Month-by-month, smiles spread further on her parents' lips until finally they would talk about the coming baby with complete, unforced, smiling mouths. They'd given us their blessing and then their home, since they, being the ever-travelers that they were, purchased a motor home a year before to explore the country. The house would be empty, anyway, they'd said. And since it had been in Esme's mother's family for generations, they couldn't bring themselves to sell it.

That was more than seventeen years ago, and now history seemed to be repeating itself through my son.

I remembered the first time I met Bella, just outside the door on my way to the hospital. She was quietly pretty, polite and shy and I liked her right away. Aside from Angela, she was the sweetest girl Edward had ever brought home. Not that there were a lot of girls, but some of them, the way they looked at me right in front of my son, made me queasy. I couldn't get away from those girls fast enough. Bella was different, special--I saw it as clear as Edward did.

I'd watched them decorate the Christmas tree together. They'd seemed so young that night. Bella had her idea of where the ornaments should go and kept moving them around until they were just the way she wanted them. She'd even moved some of Edward's.

"No," she'd said. "That one is too beautiful to be in the back of the tree." She moved it to the front, stood on tiptoe to reach just the right branch. Maybe I should have told her that that had been Edward's first ornament. A gift from Esme and me--a blown glass ornament of the holy family embracing. But I hadn't wanted to interrupt them. The two of them laughing and pushing at each other, bickering and taking turns sliding fingers down arms or hugging at the waist. I was convinced they were unaware I was in the room. But I'd been there the entire time; I'd brought the tree down from the attic. Bella was all smiles that night and all tears tonight. She was undeserving of what she was being forced to endure right now. The decisions ahead of her would not be easy with the opposition she was facing.

Had I failed the kids? Was there more I could have done for them tonight? I was looking at my reflection through the window when Edward entered my study. I heard him come in but he hadn't spoken yet. I could have asked him how he'd let this happen--told him that yes, he was ruining all his chances at a promising life. I could have lashed out like that, but it wouldn't have been true. I couldn't predict the future...Who could? The truths we saw--they were just ours, and more times than not, they were misguided. I thought about what I'd told Esme earlier--that everyone has their unique terrain of problems to trek through. This was Edward and Bella's landscape. It could be a lonely desert, or a busy city rich with lights, or a calm forest strung with trees. It could be what they made of it. Not impossible. Not the end of the world. So I wouldn't lay my disappointment on my son. He needed me and my understanding now more than ever--and _that_, he would get.

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Review, please! :)

Tell me what you think. Carlisle didn't come easily to me like Bella and Edward. I didn't really force him but I did have to guide him a little. Did it work…at all?

"_And that was all_"--yes, it was borrowed from Ernest Hemingway, which is why it's italicized. I thought it was fitting because Hemingway was mentioned earlier in the story and I love how simple, but final and honest that phrase is.


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